Patience
by freakishly.srivatsan
Summary: "No," he said stubbornly. "Get out of the water." And, for extra measure, he added, "Fully clothed." GaaSaku, lemons.


He didn't know when exactly it had started. This bothered him a bit – but not too much – because to him, dates and days had always been important. His mind could remember the simplest, tenderest, _stupidest details. _Especially when new obsessions sprung up. Obsession with making up violent ways to deal with Shikamaru just in case he decided to hurt his sister? He discovered that on a humid night, on her birthday, when they were all out at a bar, celebrating. Two years of seeing his sister married and that obsession still hadn't left him.

Obsession with buying Naruto ramen every time he visited? Started on a rainy evening, when Naruto had approached him, dejected because Ino had turned him down. Obsession with destroying at least one bouquet each time he visited her flower shop? Started the day after Naruto turned to him, and as far as he could see, that obsession hadn't died down even after the two blonds got together.

So it sort of bothered him that he didn't know exactly when he started secretly watching Sakura squeeze her own breasts.

It must have been a free afternoon, he reflected – well, that was obvious. The Kazekage – the father – thought it was absolutely essential that Gaara spent every waking moment on a mission. A view that was starting to slow down, but it was safe to say he didn't get much free time.

Not that he minded, of course. With the shukaku dormant, he didn't have much to do.

"Didn't" being the key word. Sabaku no Gaara always knew his tenses right.

He was on a mission, in Konoha – although, in truth he could come and go as he pleased. He was strolling through the thickets, the eeriness of the place giving him an odd sense of comfort that no one could dream of finding in Suna – and was about to tread openly out of the bushes and into the lake for a bath when suddenly, her pink hair came into view and he halted.

Very conspicuous, her pink hair. It rolled down her back in soft layers, and now, as he had a closer look, the tips curled at the end. How odd, thought Gaara. Her hair always looked straight throughout.

And maybe, just maybe, when she pulled her hair to the front to wash it and revealed her stunning backside, the inappropriateness of the situation should have sunk into him.

But he couldn't look away. Now, Gaara was no pervert. Nor was he unfamiliar with the female anatomy (that was sort of impossible when your brother was Kankuro). Nor was he a man whore. But there was something about what he was seeing that seemed so religious. She was washing herself thoroughly, but it wasn't just that. He frowned.

And suddenly she turned around, gazing curiously, and at some point he could have sworn she was staring straight at him. But no, it wasn't possible. You see, Sabaku no Gaara was no idiot. He had mastered the invisible ninja technique to the Tee.

She shrugged, and in the same position, poured a mug of water over her breasts, and _squeezed them._

Well, not exactly. She was rubbing in the scented soap, but there was a lot of squeezing. And for the first time in his life, Sabaku no Gaara gaped.

She had ample breasts, generous globes, and he couldn't help but marvel at their size – Sakura was known to be moderate, not this exceptional. What did she do, wear clothes thrice her size? Tie her breasts somehow? For some reason, that thought made him shudder with pleasure.

They were pale, and rose high. The curves below the collar bone and at the sides marked them as two distinct balls of flesh. Her nipples were the same colour as her fleshy, tinted lips – he shuddered once more – and he could see their erect state, despite the distance.

It was beyond doubt; her breasts were perfect.

But that wasn't it either. That wasn't where the "religiousness" could be seen. So what was it, he thought, and watched on to see her stroke her naval, then bring her hands back to her breasts and –

Bingo.

She was paying attention to every aspect of her breasts, as though her lover was doing it. She was tweaking her nipples. And it was driving him crazy.

Quite a natural attention seeker, even in privacy, he thought, and settled for a grin. She loved touching herself.

Or, more importantly, she _loved being touched._

Gaara's throat hitched.

No, he simply couldn't step in. Sabaku no Gaara, ex desert demon, had changed. He lived for his people. And it was about time he realized that some things would simply never be his. It hurt, but it was true.

Maybe one day, he'd confess he'd seen her, and – if he got lucky – take her right in the guest room. But for now, he'd have to put up with a feeling he was learning to adapt – patience.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTLEFTYLEFT Y**

He did the same thing the next day: picked a convenient spot to see her wash herself – he could always see her hands at action.

He enjoyed many parts – all of them, actually – from watching her fingering her belly button to mildly stroking her thighs to simply rubbing her nape – but her breasts session was his favourite. It should have been illegal to have such perfect breasts, and she honestly spent a lot of time washing them, but who was he to complain?

Needless to say, this became a routine. He would somehow make sure his afternoons were always, _always_ free, and watch her bathe. Sometimes he'd bump into her in the ramen store, and surprise her with his mild friendliness. Of course, it took him all his restraint to not blatantly stare at her breasts. Maybe his openness was uncalled for, but he honestly felt like he knew her better with every session down the lake.

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTLEFTYLEFT Y**

So it was another such afternoon, and he was at his usual spot, when he noticed her keeping bowls of some syrup at the rock. So the soap was being substituted then. He couldn't wait to find out what those bowls contained.

She picked up one bowl, poured a bit of the syrup into her palm, and began to generously apply it to her neck. She was close enough for him to catch a whiff, and his knees trembled.

Maple syrup. His favourite.

She was only rubbing her shoulders now, and Gaara thought, not for the first time, if her breasts were as soft and warm and firm and sweet as they looked.

And suddenly, very suddenly, she flung her bowl at one of the bushes and spat, "That's it. I'm sick of this shit. You, whoever you are, are annoying me with your cowardice."

An incredible silence followed. She sighed and resumed her rant. "You come here every day, watch me wash myself, and honestly believe I wouldn't notice? I noticed from the first boner, three weeks ago!"

Gaara did a quick calculation in his head and found that it had, indeed, been three weeks. Which brought him to her last statement.

He almost gaped. Almost. You see, Sabaku no Gaara never made the same mistake tw –

"Confused? You should be. I'll make it short for you – I've had the ability to sense boners since I was a kid."

Gaara gaped. Well, so much for that statement.

Sakura had apparently still not realized that she was blabbering childishly to a perverted and possibly dangerous stranger. "Yeah. So how about it, huh? Show yourself, you motherfucking son of a toilet brush!" Ouch. "Step out and fight me! Don't underestimate the powers of a naked, humiliated woman!"

You forgot sexy, Gaara thought absently. Ah, well. My game is up. If She manages to kill me – which isn't impossible when she's this angry – I'd be dying a happy man. Well, not completely happy. He wanted to stick around long enough to see her pamper her nipples with the maple syrup. But still.

Sabaku no Gaara was shameless, cocky, ruthless and forever undaunted. So when Sakura saw a nervous, gulping redhead step out of the bushes, you could consider hell to have officially frozen over.

He didn't look too nervous, of course. In fact, he must have seemed moderately indifferent, because on recognizing him, her lips parted, and she blushed.

A little too late for that, he thought bitterly. He would not lose to her. Who cares if the maple syrup was slowly running down her valley?

Her surprise lasted for a few seconds, but Sakura recovered quickly. Her pretty pis drew into a firm line, and she looked at him fiercely, a hint of determination and – something else which he did not understand, but was turning him on anyway.

As if it wasn't hard enough already.

"Sabaku no Gaara," she said in a low, clear voice that sent chills – chills! down his spine. "So it is you who invades my privacy every day. Of course, this is personal business and shall remain strictly between the two of us, and we have no right to bother our village Heads – "

He almost sighed in relief. Almost.

"- But I'm afraid you'll have to fight me. It's a matter of honour, you see. Do step forward."

Now Gaara had changed quite a lot. Really. But some things never changed, and stubbornness was one of them.

"No," he said stubbornly. "Get out of the water." And, for extra measure, he added, "Fully clothed."

Sakura, to his immense surprise, smirked. "I proposed the challenge first. I get to decide our mode of fight."

"And what would that be?"

"By hand. In the water."

She said it in a tone so firm, it reminded him of Temari managing to get Shika to do what she wanted.

Still incredibly uncertain, he made way for the water, but she wasn't finished. "Take off your clothes."

"What?" he stared at her incredulously. "What for?"

"We'd be evenly matched."

It still didn't make sense. "Then put your clothes on."

"No. I intend to finish my bath… after I'm done with you. "

Another internal shudder. She sure had a way of making things sound dirty. Speaks volumes of how she'd be in bed. Okay, this shuddering was getting annoying.

"Have you no modesty?" he spoke harshly.

"A little too late for that," she said, echoing his previous thoughts.

She caught on my weakness, he realized, as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, unable to not notice how she was staring intensely at his movements. She knows I hate fighting by hand, that I rely on my sand techniques too much. And fighting a naked woman whom I'm quite obviously attracted to?

Sabaku no Gaara was ashamed. He lost his cockiness. He lost his ruthlessness. He began to hesitate.

He was going to lose to a girl.

He stripped down to his boxers, and looked at her. Almost pleading her not to nod.

She nodded.

Ouch.

Sighing, he stared at her with his usual impassive intensity, and the boxers slide down, exposing him in all his erect glory.

She had that unreadable expression again, and he almost licked his lips at the way she was looking at him. She looked back into his eyes, fierce and angry. "Get into the water."

He walked in calmly, maintaining eye contact the whole way. His pride would not fall apart yet. He'd do something. In fact, he'd claim he backed out because she was Naruto's friend, and a female, at that. It would sound a tad noble – but the nobleness would die down if the part about how he got into the fight in the first place got out.

Shit. There was no better word for the situation: Shit.

He approached her, and stood a foot away. She stepped closer, and it took him all his will to look into her eyes alone. He replayed his famous Gaara chant in his head: don'tlookatherboobs, don'tlookatherboobs…

And suddenly, he couldn't take it.

"I don't want to fight you, "he said hoarsely. Down went one third of his pride. "I'm sorry." Two thirds. "I'll compensate for my actions." Down the drain went the whole deal.

"Compensate, eh?"

"Anything you want, I'll do it."

Deep shit, Gaara. You're swimming in deep shit, and it's gonna cost you.

But Sakura wasn't one for asking confirmations. She confidently assumed that he wouldn't take it back.

"I shall try something. You aren't allowed to speak, or act, or even fucking move your hands unless I say so. And you won't fucking protest like a redheaded pussy, either." Ouch. Swearing. She meant business now.

He gave her a ghost of a nod.

She picked up one of the bowls, dipped two fingers, and drew them out from the syrup…

…and proceeded to race his shoulders with said fingers.

His eyes widened, but he didn't dare open his mouth. She noticed, and smirked, and brought her lips close to his ear. "No comments, but I don't mind if you made a little noise. You had it coming." And she licked her earlobe.

Gaara growled. It made her jump a bit, but she was back at it. She dipped her fingers into the bowl again, and her fingers crept down his chest, slowly along the firm lines of his abs.

Burn my testicles, punch me hard, rip my hair off, he wanted to scream, but don't fucking tease me! I don't deserve this. But he just watched her movements, jaws clenched.

"Redhead caught red handed, huh?" she whispered. "I have to say, I'm quite surprised. Didn't expect you to be so _naughty, _Gaara," she was whispering near his lips now, "But I guess we all need to loosen up once in a while," and sucked at the corner of his mouth.

Fuck.

She moved her lips to his jaw line, and then his shoulder, and paid a little too much attention to his neck, kissing, sucking, licking, nibbling – he was dead. That was it. How could something be so enjoyable, and yet so heart wrecking at the same time?

Tease, he though angrily. Teasing bitch. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Now I'm going to get teased beyond belief, and those curves will always be beyond my reach.

And she was moving on, still at it, till the collar bone, then suddenly she stopped. She just gazed at his chest, her eyes not flickering there _once_, and ran her hands over his arms, his sides, his back, his neck.

Was this what it was like to be appreciated?

He didn't have much time to think about this, because she sort of bites his nipple, then does her kiss-suck-lick-nibble thing all the way down his abdomen. He growls again.

"Do you want me, Gaara?" she murmurs, and he can't place that tone, because she's running her clean fingers through his hair.

A brief violent thought flashes before him – him fucking her aggressively against the rocks, her boobs bobbing up and down – and he says nothing. He won't give in. He just won't.

But then she's massaging his balls, and he gasps. "I asked you a question, Gaara," she whispers, "And all you have to do is say a word."

"Y-yes." Bitch, I'll make you pay for this! He wanted to scream. You went too far!

She smirks, let's go of them – and decides to squeeze his length instead. "Close your eyes. I'm taking you somewhere."

**LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTLEFTYLEFT Y**

When she tells him to open his eyes, he finds himself in a cottage – a neat, humble one, with scented candles…

…which was _really_ not helping his senses right now.

And she's not forgotten, either. She resumes squeezing, stroking and – the nerve! – pinching his cock. She hums a bit, then kneels down. She's staring at it, with the same, unreadable, _sexy_ look and strokes him more violently. Then, gripping him firmly, she licks along his length.

And of course that sneaky tongue reaches the head. There she was, doing her kiss-suck-lick-nibble thing again. Except this time, she was messing with the most sensitive part of his body.

He swore. Ferociously.

This didn't affect her, and if anything, it made her suck harder. Man, she better not keep it up, or he might just –

"Man, you could have warned me, "she's chuckling, the cum – _his cum_ – dripping a bit, down her lips. She had swallowed it all, every drop, and boy, had he moaned. She licks the remnants, rose up with pride, and, well… so had her peaks.

He'd never get over her breasts. Ever.

He doesn't know how to feel now – shame, humility, pure ecstasy, anger, hurt that this would soon be over – but she doesn't give him time. Oh, she was no time waster. He'd seen that.

She licks her lips, then bends forward and licks his. He flinches – he flinches at _this_, after cumming violently into her _mouth, _being raped from head to – er, the other head by her mouth. She smiles a bit, and pulls his hands, and firmly presses them to her bottom.

"You're hands shall remain here and nowhere else. Oh, and your mouth can move," She says clearly before pressing her lips to his.

He wastes no time.

He wants to touch her hair, her breasts, her back – but he can't, and it frustrates him. He takes out this frustration on her lips.

And boy, is he frustrated.

He gropes her butt _hard,_ and bites, licks, bruises – violent kissing. She's overwhelmed, and moans, and then being, well, _her,_ kisses back with equal aggressiveness.

Now Gaara wasn't stupid. He knew you can't think rationally while kissing a naked girl especially when her gorgeous breasts are flush against your chest.

But what he didn't expect was _still_ feeling dizzy _five minutes_ after she pulled away.

They're staring at each other now. For a moment, he sees an unbelievable tenderness in her eyes. It vanishes.

"We're even now," she says quietly, and flips around. She hands him his clothes – she must have picked them up at the lake – and slips hers on quickly, and waits for him to walk out.

He's back to shameless, cocky, ruthless and forever undaunted Gaara. It almost hurts her, the way he's acting like nothing ever happened, until he turns around, smirks and says, "We're not completely even. I hope you're as patient as I am."

And he leaves, smirk still intact.

A/N: I apologise if I made a lot of tense mistakes. I've planned a sequel – one that is sort of in Sakura's Point of view – so do you think it's worth doing?


End file.
